


Worth fighting for

by LeanaM



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: After the battle, F/F, Girl Power, Hogwarts Era, and it's hard to overcome prejudice you grew up with, and so much angst, anyway, because teenage drama, eighth year, girls can change the world, i'm sure i had a good reason to write this, love hurts sometimes, so much pain, so that puts a strain on relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 11:24:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11312388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeanaM/pseuds/LeanaM
Summary: Hermione breaks up with Pansy, but Pansy isn't quite ready to give up on her.





	Worth fighting for

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JLPierre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JLPierre/gifts).



> This is another one of Pierre & Leana's Sleepy Sunday One-Shots. It was written in about an hour (it might have been 65 minutes) and published with minimal editing.  
> This time Pierre chose the prompt:
> 
> "I told you I wanted serious..."  
> "I know."  
> "Yet, you trampled over me anyways." 
> 
>  
> 
> I chose the pairings: Pansy/Hermione or Ginny/Cho. 
> 
> Make sure you read the accompanying one-shot PierreJ92 wrote as well!  
> Also thanks so much to PierreJ92 for this glorious aesthetic!!!

* * *

 

 **Worth fighting for**  
   
 

* * *

 

Hermione wipes her tears away with angry gestures. She doesn’t want to cry. Not again. _Damn the woman. Damn her to hell._

“Hermione?”

The sound of her voice makes Hermione stiffen, but she doesn’t turn around. “Leave me alone.” She’s ashamed that her emotions bleed through her voice but she can’t help it. She didn’t grow up hiding her feelings behind masks of ice, not like…

“Hermione, please.”

Hermione takes a deep breath, then gathers her books and starts pushing them into her bag. “Just go away, Parkinson.” She still hasn’t turned around, is about to move towards the Library doors when a hand falls on her shoulder and the words that tumble from Pansy’s lips make her pause.

“I’m sorry.”

She jerks away and turns around, furious now. “It’s not enough,” she hisses. “Saying you’re sorry is not enough. I told you I wanted serious… that I…” She can’t say the words, not again, and presses her lips together stubbornly. She’s said too much already.

“I know.” Pansy reaches out for her, but she steps back, away from the hands, the eyes, the mouth that caused so much pleasure, so much pain. She can see Pansy is serious, her eyes shining with unshed tears and her lips trembling with emotion, but she can’t forget. She can’t _forgive_.

“Yet you trampled over me anyway.”

Pansy lowers her head in shame. “I am so sorry. I let my tongue run away with me. It won’t happen again, Hermione, I promise. Please. Please don’t walk away.”

Hermione takes a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. But no, she can’t stay. “You keep doing it, though. We’ve talked about it and you keep doing it. And I can’t just keep forgiving you because it hurts, Pansy. It fucking hurts when you make jokes like that, when you let your friends make jokes like that and laugh with them.” She pauses, squares her shoulders and lifts her chin to give herself the boost of confidence she needs to say the next words that have been turning around in her head for a long time.

“You know what, I don’t have to sit there and let your friends take the piss out of me. Not any more. If you can’t stand up for me against them, you’re not willing to fight for me. So this is it. The end. Have a nice life, Pansy. But I won’t be part of it.”

And before Pansy can react, before the tears start flowing again, she turns around and flees the Library, all but running through the corridors to Gryffindor Tower, where she can hide in safety and cry in the solitude of her own bed.

* * *

 

She ignores Pansy’s letters, doesn’t read them, sends a well-aimed _Incendio_ their way before they even arrive at her table in the Great Hall. The school owls have begun to resent bringing her anything, but she doesn't relent. She notices, of course, that Pansy looks terrible. She is paler than ever, more unkempt than she has ever seen her, but she tells herself to steel her heart. It’s probably just a Slytherin tactic to make her feel sorry, anyway. _Bloody Slytherins._ She tried to give them a chance after the war when she came back to Hogwarts to complete her education. Merlin knows she got along with some of them just fine - even more than that - but she couldn’t stand the way they made fun of Muggleborns, _of her_ , still calling her the same names as ever, as if the War never happened. And she did try to ignore it, but it hurt. Because the War _has_ happened, and people _have_ died, and the world _has_ changed. It has to have changed, or all their sacrifices would have been for nothing. That’s why she decided to walk away, and that’s why she’s ignoring them all now.

* * *

 

She doesn’t know what to think when she walks into a classroom that is supposed to be empty and finds it full of Slytherins, Pansy standing at the blackboard as if she is teaching.

“What is going on here?”

But it’s not Pansy who answers. Pansy takes one look at her, blanches and stares at the shiny black tips of her dragonskin shoes.

“That really is none of your business, Granger. We have the Headmistress’ permission to use this classroom and we owe you no explanation.” It’s Theodore Nott who answers, raising a challenging eyebrow at her. But she bites back a sharp retort, just shrugs and walks out again.

Her curiosity is peaked, though. She resists for several days, but eventually calls on the Headmistress in her office, her curiosity getting the better of her. She thinks not knowing is the worst torture.

“Professor, what are the Slytherins doing in the old Charms classroom on the fourth floor?”

Minerva McGonagall looks at her through her square glasses, a penetrating stare that makes Hermione shift uncomfortably.

“Take a seat, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall says eventually. “And have a biscuit.”

Hermione accepts the biscuit and shoves it in her mouth to stop herself from repeating her question. She knows it will only irritate the Headmistress, and she really, really wants to know. But McGonagall is silent for a long time.

“Do not take my silence as a reluctance to explain, Miss Granger. I am merely surprised at your request. When Miss Parkinson came to me with her proposal, I was certain it was at your instigation.” It looks as if the Headmistress wants to say more, and a faint blush explains what way her thoughts were going.

Hermione tries to ignore the knot that is settling heavily in her stomach. “What… what proposal?”

“Miss Parkinson proposed to organise a series of workshops for those children who had grown up prejudiced… Pureblood children mostly, but not exclusively. She wanted to help them shed their prejudices and harmful habits. I think Muggles call this sensitivity training? She prepared the courses by herself and used a lot of Muggle reference books. I was very happy to give her permission, of course. I may even see if I include it in the curriculum next year. Miss Parkinson makes an excellent teacher, even if she still is learning herself. I must admit I thought it was mostly your influence, but now I realise you had no idea, I’m really proud of her and ashamed I didn’t give her due praise at the time. I guess even I must learn to relinquish my prejudices. What an interesting thought.” Her voice trails off and she stares dreamily out of the window, a slight frown on her face. Then she shakes herself. “Was there anything else, Miss Granger?”

Hermione is too stunned to say anything, she merely shakes her head and rises to leave.

“She’s an interesting woman, that Miss Parkinson. Someone, perhaps, worth fighting for.”

McGonagall’s words slice through Hermione like a knife. They make her feel inadequate, as if she gave up too soon, as if she’s to blame for the rupture, as if she’s the one who made the mistake.

“I shouldn’t have to fight. I’ve had enough of fighting. I shouldn’t have to swallow humiliating and hurtful comments and pretend like it doesn’t matter. It fucking does matter. Maybe she’s the one who refused to fight, did that occur to you?” Hermione knows her voice is rising to a shrill shriek as she continues to yell at the Headmistress, but she can’t help it. It’s just too much.

Mcgonagall gets up from her seat and rounds her desk in a moment, and then Hermione is pulled into her arms. The hug makes the dams break and she starts sobbing again. McGonagall just holds her, comforts her, until the tears slow and Hermione breaks away, mortified at her own behaviour.

Then she does something Hermione had never expected. She cups Hermione’s cheek and says, softly, “My dear girl, of course you shouldn’t have to suffer abuse. Of course you’ve already done so much in your young life. But love, real love, is worth fighting for. Never forget that. It’s so rare to find someone who is willing to take on the world for you.” Then she steps back and walks to the door. “I need to see Madam Pomfrey about something. You can stay here as long as you need, Miss Granger.” And then Hermione is alone in the Headmistress’ office, stunned, confused, and hopeful.

* * *

 

It takes her a few more weeks before she can muster up the courage to seek out Pansy again. But in those few weeks, she sees a difference, a marked difference, in the way the Purebloods treat the others in the school. There are no more blood status jokes, fewer cruel insults. The small needle-prick comments that used to set her teeth on edge appear less and less.

She finds Pansy sitting at the lake, a book on her lap and a blanket around her shoulders. It’s the blanket Hermione had knitted her over Christmas and it sends a painful thrill through her body to see Pansy hasn’t tossed it yet. It really is an ugly blanket, but then, it’s also very warm, and it is still cold out in March.

“Hey.”

Pansy looks up sharply, her eyes widening when she sees Hermione. “Hey.”

Hermione sits down next to her and looks out over the lake. It takes her a while to gather her thoughts and determine what she will say first.

“I went to see McGonagall. She told me… She told me what you did.”

Pansy doesn’t say anything, but the hands clenching the book on her lap turn white with tension.

“Thank you.”

Pansy lets her breath escape in a hiss and Hermione glances sideways, but Pansy’s face is turned away from her and she can’t guess what Pansy is thinking.

“I’d thought about long before… I mean, I’d started preparing the whole thing shortly before Christmas. Because I knew…” She sighs and finally turns her head to face Hermione. “You said you wanted serious.”

“I know,” Hermione says, in a strange echo from their last conversation. She meets Pansy’s gaze without hesitation.

“I am serious about you. I’m so serious I want to change the whole world so you never have to face prejudice again. But I’m still learning, Hermione, just like all these other kids. It’s no excuse for prejudice and hatred, and I know that, but I’m learning because I want to be better for you. I’ll still make mistakes. Everyone does when they try to unlearn the bigotry they grew up with. But I’m changing and I’m learning and I will overcome it. I promise, Hermione.”

Hermione takes a deep breath. “You really are kind of amazing, you know that?”

Pansy smiles, hesitating but then more fully when Hermione returns the smile. But then she asks the question she doesn’t really want the answer to. “So what does this mean for us?”

Hermione shrugs. “I… I think I will forgive you. I’m not quite there yet, I have to admit, but in time.”

Pansy nods. “I understand.” She can’t quite keep the disappointment out of her voice, but she tries. “I’ll wait. You’re worth waiting for.”


End file.
